Trinity
by Echoedge
Summary: Seasons after the death of Firestar, all four Clans are deep into a brutal war that's been dragging on for moons. In a dark dream, a prophecy is revealed, and three special cats must unite to end the fighting for good. There's only one catch: the three each have differences that are destined to drive them away from the warriors who need them most.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

In the shadows of the night, the moon shines down on claws flashing and fangs snapping and cats shrieking for their lives. Stars flicker across Silverpelt, like StarClan is watching closely, waiting to see what will happen.

In the middle of all the chaos, two warriors creep in a circle, growling, wondering who will make the first move. Their eyes glow in a silent face-off.

"Ashstar," one of the two, a dark tom, spits. "I've been waiting for this for moons." He black stripes ripple across his skin as his muscles flex. His entire body is a coiled spring, waiting to be snapped.

"Sharpstar," Ashstar, a russet-and-white she-cat, replies in a soft, beautiful voice. "Do you really want to do this? There's still a chance for peace." Behind her silhouette, lightning flashes across the sky, as if StarClan agrees. Or disagrees... Thunderclouds roll in and rain splatters onto the writhing mass of battling cats.

"We can still stop fighting," Ashstar continues. "Listen to me, Sharpstar. Go back to ThunderClan. Take care of your kits. Let them have something to live for. This war is about our elders, our apprentices, and our warriors. Not just about you. Please, let's end this forever, together. Sharpstar, are you with me?"

Around them, the turmoil comes to a halt as the crowd hears these last words.

Indecision flashes across Sharpstar's dark face. He glances back and forth at the warriors around him, and his pearly eyes blink once. Without a sound, he steps forward proudly. He lifts his head and stares evenly at the leader of WindClan in front of him. In only a moment, he takes in her russet pelt and the small dashes of white on the tips of her ears and the end of her tail.

"Sharpstar?" she asks, anxiety flashing across her usually calm face.

He pauses for a moment, holding completely still. Then, as fast as lightning, he lashes out, claws unsheathed, and rips open the she-cat's throat. Her body crumples onto the stones and her blood starts to flow. A collective hiss of terror rises from the cats around him. He looks around, part of him horrified, the other darkly satisfied.

"Does anyone else wish for peace?" he yowls, making any cat near him back away. "You see what happens when you try to end this war? It will never end. Not until there is a rightful winner!" Silence washes in waves over everyone in the clearing. No one moves.

Finally, a bold individual raises her voice. "Sharpstar," she says, stepping into the center of the clearing. Her pale white pelt glows in an unearthly way in the moonlight.

"Blackmoon," ThunderClan's leader nods. "Surely you agree with me about this -"

"Mirror, river, and heart must come together as one," Blackmoon interrupts, her voice far away.

 _A prophecy_ , the rational part of Sharpstar's mind realizes. But he shakes his head, hissing at the white and black she-cat in front of him. "Blackmoon," he tries, but she raises her tail, stopping him.

"Mirror, river, and heart must come together as one," she repeats, drawing nearer. Sharpstar backs away, glancing around him. Blackmoon elegantly steps over the Ashstar's body, her paws landing in the puddle of blood surrounding it. She leaves red pawprints as she continues forward.

"If you value your Clan, your life, and the lives of the rest of the warriors in the forest, you will hear what we have to say," she cautions, her usual voice replaced by the voices of many cats. "StarClan chose you for a reason, but you never take our advice to heart. How many times have we warned you about the future? Yet you never heed our words. Too many of your warriors have died because of you. Their blood is on _your_ paws, and only yours. This is the last prophecy you will ever receive from us. It would be wise to listen."

An eerie light fills the forest, blinding ThunderClan's leader. He blinks, and the cats around him are gone. His eyes flick around the empty forest before his instincts to run take over and he bounds through the trees, weaving through the undergrowth, his eyes wild and his legs pumping.

 _I just need to get back to Petalsong_ , he thinks to himself, knowing that his deputy can shed some insight on what just happened. He senses the forest floor sloping down, signaling that the camp is coming up soon. He draws to a stop at the edge of the cliff leading down to ThunderClan's camp, but there is nothing there. Where it used to be, there is a desolate clearing littered with the bodies of warriors, elders, kits, queens... and Petalsong, too. Her dark brown body is sprawled out in the center of camp, on top of a lifeless kit's. She must have died protected it.

 _What have I done?_ Sharpstar's eyes flick over the scene, but his mind can't take it in. Everything he ever cared for is gone. ThunderClan is ruined.

"Brace yourself," voices whisper in his ear. He whips around, but no one is there. He turns around slowly, not seeing anyone. He faces the camp again to see a harsh light in the middle of the camp, next to Petalsong. When the brightness dims a bit, he sees three pure white cats next to each other. No, there are two. Now there's only one.

"Mirror, river, and heart must come together as one," the voices say again, before the light blinks out.

Slowly, the dim trees are replaced by the warm walls of his den under the Highrock. His eyes fly open and he gasps as the dreamscape disappears. _It was just a dream._

He shakes his head, trying to dismiss the ominous message he received. But he can't keep his mind off it. _Mirror, river, heart..._

"Sharpstar?" a voice calls from outside his den.

"Come in," he replies, his voice shaky. He lifts himself out of his nest his nest and stretches. His bones feel weak and rattled.

Petalsong, his deputy, steps in, saying something about kits that are old enough to become apprentices. Sharpstar blinks a few times, trying to clear his head.

"So, should we hold the ceremony today or tomorrow?" Petalsong finishes, looking at Sharpstar expectantly.

"Uh, tomorrow," he says absently, hoping he was listening halfway well.

"Alright," Petalsong nods her head respectfully. She ducks out of the leader's den and lets a rush of cold leaf-bare air in. Sharpstar shivers before hurrying out behind her.

"Petalsong, I had a dream -" he begins before realizing she's gone - probably on a patrol. "Never mind," he grumbles and heads over to the fresh-kill pile, which isn't all that fresh anymore. The only decent-looking piece there is a mouse, but he doesn't really have an appetite.

 _I need to talk to Hazelstripe,_ he decides and heads across camp to the medicine cat's den. With every step he takes, he sees how intact the camp is, and how fragile it is as well. If what he saw in his dream ever happened...

"Hi, Sharpstar," Hazelstripe's apprentice, Larkpaw, greets him cheerily. She turns around and bounds into her den she shares with the medicine cat. Moments later, she returns with her mentor.

"Sharpstar," Hazelstripe bows his pale beige head and beckons him inside. "Larkpaw, go fetch me some fresh-kill, would you?" The gray apprentice nods and runs out of the den.

"You never stop by," Hazelstripe meows. "So this must be important."

Sharpstar nods, knowing he wouldn't be able to share the importance of this without somehow showing Hazelstripe exactly what he saw. "I had a dream," he begins. "And I received a prophecy."

"A prophecy?" Hazelstripe says, his ears perking up. "Can you tell me the exact words?"

"Mirror, river, and heart must come together as one," Sharpstar recalls. How could he ever forget _that_?

Hazelstripe freezes. "Did you say 'mirror'?" he says in a tense voice. Sharpstar nods, dreading anything the medicine cat has to say. Maybe it was a mistake bringing the information here.

"Oh, StarClan," Hazelstripe murmurs before noticing that Sharpstar is staring at him intently. "Ah, never mind. It's probably nothing, at least not at the moment..." He trails off and turns around, rummaging through his piles of herbs. Sharpstar takes this as a cue to leave, nodding quickly before backing out of the den and into the sunlight.

Hazelstripe was obviously not telling him something. But Sharpstar knows better than to pry. Still... this prophecy about these three cats sounds a bit too familiar. Too much like the prophecy of the three warriors with unbelievable abilities so long ago - Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Dovewing. Why would StarClan bring three more cats into this?

O O O

"He's definitely worried," a russet she-cat muses. "I tried to rattle him, but maybe it was too early."

"You know how he is," a flame-colored tom next to her shakes his head. "He will dismiss it as the result of a bad piece of fresh-kill. His belief in StarClan is shaky."

Both of them are silent for a while. The trees around them are green and full of life, not like the bare branches below them. It's always greenleaf in StarClan's hunting grounds.

"Ashstar," the tom says. "I think this was a mistake. Maybe the prophecy wasn't meant for this generation of warriors. Mirror, river, and heart might come later."

"No, Firestar. It's time for the three to come together. We have to let them."

The two cats glance at each other, thinking the same thing: the three are going to be impossible to unite.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Flowkit, you have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Flowpaw." Sharpstar pauses and glances around at the assembled cats watching the ceremony. "Your mentor will be Iceclaw. I hope he will pass down all he knows on to you." The light gray tom bounds up to meet the leader in one easy leap, not even out of breath. _Someday, I'll be that good,_ Flowpaw promises herself.

Sharpstar nods and continues, "Iceclaw, you are ready to take on an apprentice. You received excellent training from Sunpelt, and you have shown yourself to be wise and loyal. You will be the mentor of Flowpaw, and I expect you to pass on all you know to her." The dark gray leader nods to the pair of cats beside him and the they hurry off into the crowd.

Iceclaw looks down at his new apprentice with pride. "Hi, Flowpaw," he nudges her playfully before looking pointedly up at the highrock, where Sharpstar is beckoning Flowpaw's sister, Lightkit, up to meet him.

"Lightkit," Sharpstar begins, staring at the trembling kit in front of him. "You have reached the age of six moons, and it is time for you to be apprenticed. From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Lightpaw." Lightpaw gulps a huge breath of air and follows Sharpstar's gaze as he searched for a mentor. "Cloverpelt," he announces and a mousy-brown she-cat steps forward. Flowpaw's eyes widen as she exhales, partly relieved she didn't get Cloverpelt as a mentor, partly grief-stricken that her sister did. Everyone knows that Cloverpelt is ridiculously strict. Lightpaw's distraught look is clear for every cat in the clearing to see. Flowpaw's heart aches for her sister. She would rather be stuck with Cloverpelt than see her sister so sad.

"Cloverpelt," Sharpstar repeats, oblivious to the tension emanating from the new apprentice next to him. "You are ready to take on another apprentice. You received exceptional training from Dovewing, and you have shown yourself to be trustworthy and passionate. You will be the mentor of Lightpaw, and I expect you to pass on all you know to her."

"Flowpaw! Lightpaw! Flowpaw! Lightpaw!" The cats below Sharpstar raise their voices and call out the names of the new apprentices for a few moments before the elders go back to their dens, the warriors mingle or go out hunting, and kits hurry back to the warmth of the nursery.

Lightpaw trudges off the highrock, not bothering to hide her disappointment. Flowpaw starts to get up to comfort her, but Iceclaw holds her back with his tail. "This is her battle," he murmurs. "Let her fight it."

Flowpaw nods reluctantly, watching her sister greet her mentor halfheartedly. Her earlier elation is absolutely crushed.

"Come on," her mentor says comfortingly. "Let's go find some fresh-kill. Cloverpelt isn't as bad as she looks. I think your sister will be trained as well as she could possibly be. Especially with the war going on and all."

Flowpaw's eyes widen and she looks at Iceclaw questioningly. "What war?"

"You don't know about the war?" he asks incredulously, his expression turning serious once he sees that his apprentice really doesn't know about it at all. "Well, it started a long time ago. So long ago that no one remembers exactly how it began. Bad leadership? Not enough prey? No one can say for sure. But nothing is peaceful anymore. The Clans have been fighting for moons. I don't think they even do it for a reason anymore. They just want a winner. In my opinion, the war is a load of mouse-dung. It's high time we put it behind us."

Flowpaw stays silent. She was brought up on tales about how righteous the Clans were, how they followed the warrior code and worked together in emergencies. Those stories don't sound anything like what's happening now.

"Well, there's not much you can do, Flowpaw," Iceclaw continues. "For now, we're going to train, and maybe you can make a difference in the war when you're older." He stops at the fresh-kill pile and rifles through it, sighing when he doesn't find anything worth eating.

"I really shouldn't waste this food, but it's, well, not very appetizing," he says with a shrug. Flowpaw nods in agreement, looking down at a semi-good-looking mouse and a bird with droopy feathers.

"Should we take some to the elders?" Flowpaw glances up at her mentor.

Iceclaw nods, his expression pleased. "I'm sure they'll appreciate some food, even if it's old. Let's take the mouse, it looks a little better." Flowpaw scoops up the mouse with her teeth and the delicious taste instantly seeps into her mouth.

They enter the elder's den and are greeted by a musty smell - the smell of old nests and old cats. Flowpaw wrinkles her nose, glancing around.

"Another apprentice, eh?" a mottled gray she-cat in the far corner grumbles. "They just want you to fight. Don't get too comfortable, because you're replaceable."

"Birdwing," a faded brown tom interrupts. "Don't talk like that." He turns to Flowpaw. "I'm Hollowfur," he says in a raspy voice. "Don't mind that old bat - Birdwing over there. It seems like the only thing she gets joy from is scaring new apprentices. Welcome to the elders' den."

"Thank you," Flowpaw mews, wondering what Birdwing meant. "We brought you some fresh-kill." She offers the mouse to Hollowfur. He grunts in appreciation and takes the piece of prey.

"Want to hear a story?" Birdwing rumbles from the corner.

"Um, sure," Flowpaw settles back on her haunches, looking warily at the frail she-cat. Her fur is gray with black markings on her back and face. Maybe when she was young, she was pretty, but now she just looks sad.

"A long time ago, even before I was born," Birdwing begins. "ThunderClan's leader, Bluestar, found a kittypet named Rusty."

Flowpaw recognizes this story - one her mother, Blackmoon, told her when she was a kit. She had reminded her that heroes are always unexpected.

The she-cat continues, "She made the stupid decision of letting him into the Clan and for some StarClan-forsaken reason, he rose up and became our leader. Maybe you've heard of him. His name was Firestar. Now, I don't know what StarClan was thinking when they gave all those prophecies about him - 'fire alone will save the Clan' and everything - but let me just tell you -"

"What am I missing?" a cranky voice pipes up behind Flowpaw and she jumps. An old calico she-cat steps into the den and takes in the scene. "Fresh-kill?" she asks before snatching a morsel from Hollowfur's nest. He makes a halfhearted sound of protest but obviously sees this as a battle that doesn't need to be fought.

"We should be going, Flowpaw," Iceclaw shakes her from her thoughts.

"Right," she says and gets up.

"Don't you want to hear the rest of my story?" Birdwing meows angrily.

"Sorry, duty calls," Iceclaw replies, but Flowpaw can tell he's getting irritated. "Let's go," he pads past his apprentice and out into the leaf-bare air. Flowpaw follows, glancing back at the trio of lounging elders. What do they do all day? Tell the new apprentices stories? That can't be a real life.

"Sorry about that," Iceclaw meows once they're a few tail-lengths away from the elder's den.

"Birdwing loves telling that story to new apprentices, and from what I hear, it doesn't make the 'paws all that happy about their role in ThunderClan."

"Oh," Flowpaw says. Why isn't she bubbling with questions? This isn't like her at all. Maybe it's because of Lightpaw getting Cloverpelt as a mentor.

"Are you still worrying about your sister?" Iceclaw asks quietly.

"Yes..." Flowpaw sighs. "I'm sorry that I'm not that excited about all of this."

Iceclaw shrugs. "It's fine for today, I suppose, but tomorrow, we should tour the territory. I can't have you sulking forever."

The white apprentice sighs again. "Okay. Can I go see Lightpaw?"

"Fine with me," Iceclaw says. "But I don't know about Cloverpelt -" he stops himself as the same mentor and apprentice walk past the fresh-kill pile. Lightpaw casts a glance over at her sister and is relieved to see her expression isn't as bad as Flowpaw expected. Something like, _I'm fine. Don't worry about me._

Flowpaw nods, relieved beyond measure. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

"Feel better now?" her mentor asks, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Very," the snowy-white apprentice smiles. Leave it to her sister to keep her head up when things don't go her way.

An excited cry rises from outside the entrance to the camp and a tortoiseshell warrior and a dark brown apprentice rush into camp, each carrying a mouthful of fresh-kill.

"Spottedfoot!" Iceclaw calls and beckons for Flowpaw to follow him as he goes to meet the returning hunter at the fresh-kill pile.

"Hi," Spottedfoot drops his load on the meager pile and bumps Iceclaw's shoulder playfully. "We could have used your help out there! There was a vole we could have caught if we had you and your apprentice to block off its escape."

"Hey, Flowpaw's new! She doesn't even know what it's like outside camp."

"Hm," Spottedfoot meows, studying Flowpaw. "She looks like a good hunter. Let me know when the four of us can go hunt together." He raises his tail in a goodbye and trots off to the warriors' den, his apprentice going the other way, to the apprentices' den. Flowpaw realizes with a jolt that that's where she's going to be sleeping until she becomes a warrior. She won't have the warmth of her mother anymore. Speaking of which -

"Iceclaw," Flowpaw says timidly. "Can I go visit my mother?"

A warm understanding appears in her mentor's hazel eyes. "Of course," he smiles.

Flowpaw dashes off to the nursery, leaving Iceclaw to pick a piece of fresh-kill from the pile.

The warmth of her mother's den instantly comforts Flowpaw as she barges in. Blackmoon is sitting next to Minttail, grooming her, as the pale ginger queen watches her kit - Cherrykit - play.

"Flowpaw!" Blackmoon meows, beaming. "I miss you already."

"Me too," Flowpaw agrees and settles down next to her mother, shooting a cheery glance at Cherrykit before turning back to her mother. "Lightpaw is okay with Cloverpelt. You don't have to worry about her."

Blackmoon visibly relaxes. Lightpaw's predicament must have been bothering her even more that it was bothering Flowpaw.

"Do you like your mentor?" Blackmoon runs her tongue over her kit's white pelt.

Flowpaw thinks for a moment. Now that she considers it, Iceclaw seems like an amazing teacher. He's friendly but knows that duty comes first, like when he let her mourn for her sister today, but insisted on starting training tomorrow. "He's really good," she says finally. "I can't wait to start training."

"You don't sound like your usual excited self," Blackmoon observes.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Flowpaw sighs. "I noticed it too. I'll see how I feel tomorrow."

"Okay," Blackmoon nods, a warm, reassuring look in her eyes. "It's probably time for you to go sleep in your new den. Find a good place for you and your sister!" The queen strokes her daughter with her tail before ushering her outside.

The sun is dipping below the walls of the camp, making the light a strange golden color. Even the bare trees above take on a beautiful creamy-bronze hue. Flowpaw sighs. This was her first day as an apprentice. Honestly, she couldn't wish for anything more.

O O O

Sharpstar paces along the length of his den, thinking about the faces he saw in his dream. Blackmoon was there, and Ashstar, the WindClan leader that died moons ago in the war. But why did Blackmoon give the prophecy? Why was she even the dream? Shouldn't dreams from StarClan only have dead warriors in them?

"Are you alright, Sharpstar?" Petalsong's voice calls from outside his den. She must have heard his pawsteps.

"Yes, I'm fine," he snaps, instantly regretting it. "Sorry, I'm just tired," he amends.

"Alright, sleep well," she calls and pads away.

He goes back to his thoughts. _Why was Blackmoon in the dream?_ Sharpstar asks himself. As usual, there are no answers. And StarClan can't lend any help because they promised that his dream last night would be his last from them. What is there to do?

Before he realizes it, his paws are taking him out of his den, across the camp, and to the nursery, where Blackmoon is still resting. She'll probably move to the warrior's den in a few days, but for now, she's helping Minttail raise Cherrykit.

He sticks his head in the den and glances around. It's dim but the air smells comforting, like warm milk and the games he and his denmates played when they were kits. Happy memories rush through his mind and Sharpstar smiles sadly. What he would give to be that carefree again.

Blackmoon is curled up next to Minttail, her white pelt rising and falling steadily. Her black paws twitch as she dreams. She looks so peaceful compared to her frenzied state in the dream. She doesn't look like a cat that would issue a prophecy. She just looks like an innocent queen, not meant to fight in this war.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Wake up," a cranky voice hisses. Lightpaw opens one eye and sees the stern face of her mentor, Cloverpelt, looking down at her. Her heart jolts and she jumps up, looking around. The apprentices' den is empty and cold. She shivers involuntarily, looking sheepishly up at Cloverpelt.

"I've been awake since sunrise," Cloverpelt spits, gesturing at the daylight filtering through the ivy curtain covering the entrance to the apprentices' den. "No one woke you?"

"N-no," Lightpaw stutters, her body shaking even harder now, not only from the cold, but from the intensity of her mentor's glare.

Cloverpelt rolls her eyes. In the sickly leaf-bare light, her mousy brown fur looks unhealthy and faded... which is probably something Lightpaw shouldn't point out.

"Come," Cloverpelt grunts after a few more seconds of silence. "We're touring the territory with your sister and Iceclaw." Lightpaw's heart lifts. At least she'll be with Flowpaw.

Lightpaw follows the pale brown she-cat outside. Instantly, the air around her becomes chilled. The snow isn't so much of a plaything as it was when she was a kit; it's more of a nuisance now that she's older. Right now she would give anything to see this greenleaf that everyone talks about. She was born in leaf-fall, so she hasn't ever seen the fabled green leaves that appear when leaf-bare is over.

"Lightpaw!" Flowpaw's voice cuts through her daydreaming. Her sister runs over from the entrance to the camp and runs her tail along Lightpaw's side. "With all of the snow, I could barely see you!" she laughs.

Lightpaw looks down at her white pelt. Flowpaw's right - she can hardly make out the shape of her paws on the ground.

"Hey, are you three coming?" Iceclaw calls across the camp. Cloverpelt mutters something about bossy young warriors, but she leads the way to the thorny tunnel leading out into ThunderClan's territory, her paws crunching against the sparkling snow. Lightpaw takes a moment to appreciate how beautiful the leaf-bare world is. Even though the sunlight is weak and the trees cast eerie shadows, the pure white snow is like a blanket of stars.

Iceclaw leads the way out of the camp, through the tunnel. "Won't the thorns..." Lightpaw starts, but Cloverpelt shoves her gently from behind and she is forced to squeeze through. To her surprise, the thorns barely even touch her fur. The tunnel is the perfect size - easy enough for hunters and patrols to get through, but tough for an attack. It would take moons for an entire raiding party to get through, which would give ThunderClan plenty of time to stop them.

 _Wow_ , Lightpaw thinks to herself. _Maybe I have natural battle instincts._

"This is the outside world," Iceclaw announces when everyone is through the tunnel. "It's... well, pretty big."

"No kidding," Flowpaw breathes as she looks up at the walls of the camp, going almost straight up. "We have to climb that?" she asks skeptically.

"It's not as hard as it looks," Cloverpelt shoulders past Iceclaw and points out a step on the cliff. She hops onto it and in a matter of moments, she's at the top, barely breathing hard.

"How..." Flowpaw trails off. Then a steely determination enters her eyes and she puts one paw on Cloverpelt's first pawhold. She springs up and teeters for a moment before jumping again to another tiny ledge. Lightpaw watches as her sister makes her way up the cliff, meeting Cloverpelt at the top. Her chest is heaving.

"Good job," Iceclaw grunts and gestures for Lightpaw to go before him. She takes a big breath and tries to remember how Flowpaw climbed the slope. Her heart pounds. _What if I mess up?_ She takes one step, and a leap, and narrowly avoids falling, and she's at the top. Flowpaw gives her an excited grin and watches as Iceclaw zig-zags up. Cloverpelt shoots her a halfway-approving glance. _I must have done pretty good if_ Cloverpelt _compliments me_ , Lightpaw thinks.

"WindClan border or ShadowClan border?" Iceclaw asks.

"Definitely WindClan," Cloverpelt shoots a fierce glare at Iceclaw, as if his question was stupid. "ShadowClan is never good news. We'll leave that border to the patrols."

"To the Twoleg nest?" Iceclaw points with his tail up the hill.

Cloverpelt nods and starts away from the camp, weaving around dark brown trees. Her brown pelt sometimes blends in with undergrowth that didn't shrivel away during leaf-fall. Iceclaw's gray fur takes on a blueish tinge as the sun climbs higher and higher in the sky. Sometimes, when Lightpaw glances over at her sister, it takes her a moment to find her because of her white pelt. No doubt Flowpaw is having the same troubles seeing Lightpaw.

It seems as if moons pass before the two mentors finally slow down.

"Here we are," Cloverpelt announces and the group pulls to a halt in front of a dark structure rising from the ground. "It's called a Twoleg nest. Surely you know about Twolegs?" She looks at the sisters and they both nod. "Good," she goes on. "A long time ago, Twolegs lived here. But now it's just in disrepair. Be careful for splinters, but otherwise there isn't any danger."

Lightpaw looks around at the three cats around her and decides that _someone_ has to go first. She steps into the Twoleg nest. The roof of the nest is missing, but some rotting square logs cross each other above her, making the light dimmer than it should be. The whole place feels too fake, too wrong. It shouldn't be here.

"Weird, huh?" Flowpaw pipes up from next to her. Lightpaw jumps, but quickly covers her reaction.

"Yeah," Lightpaw agrees. "It feels wrong."

Her sister shakes a few snowflakes off her white pelt. Lightpaw can't read her expression, which is surprising, because they grew up together. She should be able to tell exactly what her sister is feeling. Not knowing sort of worries her.

"Well, we've seen enough here," Cloverpelt says, casting glances at the shadows lurking in the corners of the nest. Her eyes are wary and guarded. She turns away and starts back down the hill, leaving Iceclaw, Lightpaw, and Flowpaw to catch up.

"So, what's next?" Flowpaw huffs, trotting next to her grayish-blueish mentor.

He looks around, probably judging their position, and announces, "Let's do the WindClan border."

Cloverpelt veers left and the group breaks out of the trees, standing on the top of a bare hill. Lightpaw gasps. The view in incredible. She can see the lake, and the island where gatherings are held. The edges of the water are frozen over, the ice reaching out toward the middle like claws.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Iceclaw meows from next to her. She looks over at him and back at the lake.

"It is," she says.

"Next to us is WindClan territory," Iceclaw says, pointing with his tail to barren snow-covered moors to their left. "Across the lake is RiverClan, and the pine forest there is ShadowClan." Lightpaw and her sister follow his gaze as he points out each territory.

"Are we done admiring the territories?" Cloverpelt interrupts, gesturing down the other side of the hill. "That's the WindClan border. We'll take you part-way down it and then back to camp."

For the first time, Lightpaw notices the fading sunlight. Fiery bursts of light come from the horizon, just adding to the beauty of what she sees before her. A story that Blackmoon told her when she was a kit comes back to her - the one about the sun-drown-place that a few brave warriors found so that the Clans could have a new home. Maybe I can do something that heroic, she thinks, but it's more of a question than a statement.

The four cats pick their way down to the WindClan border, where Iceclaw and Cloverpelt take turns marking ThunderClan's territory on their way back to camp.

Iceclaw leaves his last mark and glances in the direction of camp. "Time to go?" he asks Cloverpelt.

She nods curtly and takes the lead. Lightpaw's legs have started to ache and her paws are getting sore. She can tell that each step her sister takes is ginger, too. How do warriors have so much stamina? It seems impossible to take even one more step.

"You tired?" Flowpaw mutters beside her.

"I'm exhausted," she laughs weakly. "Hopefully we're almost there."

Flowpaw nods, and in the dim light, Lightpaw can only see her ghostly white shape moving. Her usually brilliant yellow eyes are muted.

Just as Lightpaw feels like her paws are going to fall off, Iceclaw mews cheerfully, "Here we are!"

Lightpaw sighs with relief at the same time as her sister. Cloverpelt makes her way down the camp's wall first and beckons for Flowpaw to go next. She stumbles down the rock ledge and meets the brown warrior at the bottom. Even from this far away, Lightpaw can see her struggling to catch her breath.

"Ready?" Iceclaw asks gently. Lightpaw looks over at him and does a double-take. If she thought her sister's white fur looked creepy at night, she clearly hadn't seen Iceclaw's.. His pelt takes on an unnatural purple glow, as if part of Silverpelt is stuck inside him.

"Lightpaw?" he says.

"Oh, yeah, I'm ready," she stutters and takes the first step down the cliff. Instantly, she slips on her pawhold and tumbles down a few tail-lengths, landing is a heap next to Cloverpelt. Her sister rushes to her side and looks her over, her eyes wide.

"Whoa, Lightpaw!" Iceclaw calls as he hurries down to her. "You okay...? Whoa."

Pain shoots up and down her spine. Her entire body is aching and her leg is on fire. For some reason, her left hind paw is tingling. "Is it bad?" she croaks.

"Um, not really," Iceclaw gulps. In her dazed state, Lightpaw can't tell if he's telling the truth or trying to make her feel better. Her sister's face bobs in and out of view, making her disoriented and dizzy. Cloverpelt's eyes are the only thing that she can look at without getting vertigo. They're a soft green, something that escaped straight from greenleaf.

She dimly registers her body being shouldered onto Iceclaw's and Cloverpelt's backs and being carried through the camp entrance, the thorns still barely touching her fur. _How does that work?_ part of her absently wonders.

A watery voice filters into her ears, shouting something like, "My kit!" Maybe Blackmoon? More and more shapes crowd around her until she can't focus on anything. Cloverpelt's eyes have disappeared from her view. Overwhelmed, she her eyes slip shut and her mind shuts down.

O O O

"What in StarClan?" a fierce voice hisses. Jayfeather jumps, whipping around. Bluestar, ThunderClan's leader before Firestar, is growling at him, her eyes furious.

Jayfeather takes a moment to compose himself before answering. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know, you sneaking mouse-brain," she spits. "How could you let her get hurt? She's important!"

"Bluestar, you know that we can't interfere with what's supposed to happen. We can send prophecies, omens, and signs, but then it's up to the cats of the Clans to figure it out. I think StarClan has done everything it can -"

"Oh, we sure have," Bluestar yowls. "We've done far too much! Who was it that gave Sharpstar that ridiculous dream? Who let Blackmoon play a part? He's going to get the wrong idea about her!"

The medicine cat backs away. He has never seen Bluestar so angry. Sure, she gets eccentric sometimes, but she usually stays cool and strong. Now, she looks like she's... breaking down.

"It was me, Bluestar," a russet she-cat says from behind the leader. Ashstar emerges from the forest and bows her head respectfully.

Jayfeather can tell that Bluestar is using every bit of strength in her body to keep herself from attacking WindClan's dead leader.

"You put Blackmoon in the dream?" she whispers, clipping off the end of each word.

Ashstar flinches, realizing just how mad Bluestar is. "Well, yes -"

" _Why_?" Bluestar shrieks, still managing to restrain herself. "Blackmoon is still living! She doesn't even know how you're _using_ her! If Sharpstar was skeptical about his ancestors in StarClan before, he is doubting every belief in his mind now!"

"You have to trust me, Bluestar -" Ashstar starts, but Bluestar cuts her off with a lash of her tail. Jayfeather flinches, even though the furious leader is facing away from him.

"So the wonderful Ashstar has another one of her plans, does she?" the blueish-gray she-cat snaps. "Remember how well that worked last time?"

Ashstar's eyes grow sad and guilty. "I thought it was the right time for the mirror..." she says weakly.

"Well, thanks to you, the mirror is _dead_ ," Bluestar howls, her voice laced with something more than anger. "That was definitely one of _your_ plans, Ashstar, because it failed."

The russet leader lets her head droop, defeated. "I'm sorry," she murmurs. "But there's not much we can do. StarClan has already cut off its connection with Sharpstar. Even Jayfeather can't reach him." The medicine cat stiffens when he hears his name. "He believes so firmly that we have cut off any ties with him, it's impossible to send him another dream."

Bluestar stays silent. Jayfeather looks back and forth between the two leaders, waiting for one to say something.

Finally, Ashstar raises her head, looking Bluestar directly in the eye. "StarClan isn't supposed to interfere, but I have an idea. We have to keep it a secret." The russet cat looks at Jayfeather, her eyes piercing through his. For the first time is so long, he feels vulnerable.

"Are you going to tell us or what?" Bluestar prods, her voice not as sharp as before.

Ashstar finally looks away from Jayfeather, leaving him trembling. "We'll send the mirror back," she meows, such confidence in her eyes that Jayfeather can't help but believe that everything she schemes will work out. "It's just another layer of my plan. Mirror, river, and heart must come together as one, remember?"


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Flowpaw paces outside of Hazelstripe's den, her pawsteps echoing off the walls of camp. The only thing she can think about it Lightpaw. Blackmoon has been stopping by, trying to get the medicine cat to let her inside to see her daughter, but she was turned away every time. Flowpaw has been having no better luck.

"Hey, Flowpaw?" a quiet voice asks.

Flowpaw lifts her head. Hazelstripe's apprentice, the dark gray Larkpaw, is looking at her intently.

"I can't tell you much about your sister," Larkpaw continues. "But... she'll be fine. Her left hind leg is broken, but it's nothing we can't fix. It might take a while, but I'm positive that she'll get better." The apprentice nods resolutely at that last bit, her expression warm and confident.

"Oh, StarClan," Flowpaw sighs, letting out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. "Thank you so much, Larkpaw."

The dark gray she-cat smiles warmly and pads back into the medicine cat's den, leaving Flowpaw dazed and relieved outside.

 _I have to let Blackmoon know_ , she thinks after a moment. Her mother is probably worried sick, waiting for news. Flowpaw trots out of the medicine cat's clearing and into the main camp, her spirits higher than they have been in days.

"Blackmoon!" the white she-cat calls to her mother. Blackmoon looks up from the piece of prey she is busy picking at near the fresh-kill pile.

"What is it?" she asks, her eyes wary, like she's hoping for good news but expects the worst.

It takes the white apprentice a few moments to catch her breath. Her mother waits nervously. Finally, she meows, "Larkpaw told me that Lightpaw will be alright! Her leg is broken. It might just take a while."

The white and black warrior's face loses the anxiety it has been holding for the past days. "Thank StarClan," she murmurs, tension seeping out of her shoulders. The two stare at each other for a moment, relieved beyond measure.

"I heard your sister is going to be okay," a voice says from behind Flowpaw. She turns around and bows her head at her mentor, Iceclaw, as he approaches the fresh-kill pile. "And that means that I can start training you again. I trust you'll be able to concentrate better than last time?"

Flowpaw nods sheepishly, remembering how she could barely listen to Iceclaw in their training session a few days ago because she was so worried about Lightpaw. "When do we start?" she asks.

"Now," he says, nodding at Blackmoon politely. "Do you mind?" he addresses her.

"Not at all," she mews and looks warmly at Flowpaw. "Have fun," she says.

Flowpaw waves to her mother with her tail and hurries after her mentor. His blue-gray pelt looks odd against the white snow.

"So," he says as they burst out of the thorny tunnel to camp. "Today is a good day to hunt. Leaf-bare is almost over, and the animals will be getting curious about what it's like outside their dens. Ready to try it?"

The white apprentice nods breathlessly, looking up at the cliff in front of her. Without hesitating, she steps up and jumps from ledge to ledge until she arrives, her chest heaving, at the top. She looks down as Iceclaw follows, imagining what Lightpaw saw when she fell. She prays that something like that never happens to her.

"Nice job," Iceclaw says as he arrives next to her. He pauses for a moment. "My mentor, Sunpelt, he said a few things that I still remember. One of them was, 'if you think you're going to fail, you're going to fail.' I've been thinking about that a lot since your sister got hurt." He looks at his apprentice. "Flowpaw, would you promise me something?"

Flowpaw looks up at Iceclaw, surprised by the sudden change of mood. "Yes," she says, her voice a lot stronger than she thought it would be.

"Promise that you will believe that you can succeed, not fail. Can you do that?"

Flowpaw nods, thinking about what might have been going through Lightpaw's mind as she stepped down the wall of the camp. Maybe she expected to fail. Maybe that's why she did.

"Okay," Iceclaw says after a few beats. "Sorry for getting all wise and solemn there. It just occurred to me and I wanted to pass that on to someone."

"It's fine," Flowpaw says, still pondering Iceclaw's - well, Sunpelt's - words. _If you think you're going to fail, you're going to fail._

"Ready to hunt?" Iceclaw meows. Not waiting for an answer, he dashes off into the forest, weaving around the barren trees. Flowpaw scrambles after him, taking a few moments to admire ThunderClan's territory as it whizzes past her. The trees are laden with fragments of ice and what little undergrowth remains is covered in frost. Everything shimmers ethereally.

Suddenly, Iceclaw stops, causing Flowpaw to almost run into him. He signals for her to be quiet and to stay where she is. His paws move silently over the snow as he stalks forward, his eyes fixed on... well, Flowpaw can't see anything there. Nothing is moving, but Iceclaw seems to sense that something warm and meaty is nearby.

Without a warning, the gray warrior pounces under a bare bush, emerging a few seconds later with a small, furry animal in his claws. He tosses it to Flowpaw and she bends down to study it.

"That's a vole," he announces. The creature looks like a mouse, but is wider with a shorter tail. When Flowpaw puts her paw on its body, it's still warm.

"How did you do that?" she asks, still staring at the prey in front of her. Funny how for so long, the vole was a vole, but in one moment, it was transformed into prey.

Iceclaw crouches down, signalling for his apprentice to do the same. His tail hovers barely a mouse-length above the ground, probably to keep it from making unnecessary noise. Even with no experience, Flowpaw can tell which of Iceclaw's muscles are tight and ready to spring into action and which are relaxed so that the way he moves is fluid and silent.

Her mentor takes a few steps, not making any sound.

" _That_ is how I did it," he says and straightens up.

Flowpaw runs through what she saw him do in her mind, trying to remember how each part of his body was positioned. She looks at him and he nods, encouraging her to go ahead and try it. She lowers herself and lifts her tail, tightening her back but keeping her paws lightly placed on the ground. She pads forward, every part of her focusing on being silent and smooth.

"You can get up," Iceclaw says. Flowpaw relaxes her muscles and realizes that they're sore and aching. "That was... well, impressive. Where did you learn all that?"

"From watching you," Flowpaw shrugs.

"Really?" Iceclaw says incredulously. Then he pauses. "Wait, really?"

Flowpaw shrugs again. "I guess."

"Well, this is going to be easy for me," he laughs, gesturing for her to assume her hunting stance again.

He paces around her, studying her form. "When you first discover that there's prey nearby, you need to figure out which way the wind is blowing. If it's blowing from behind you, then the prey will be able to smell you, and then there will be no prey. If it's blowing from your front, you can smell the prey, but it can't smell you." He moves around to her right side. "Pretend I'm a mouse. Where would you go so that I can't tell you're there?"

Flowpaw perks her ears, listening for any wind. The air is still.

"Is that a trick question?" she asks.

Iceclaw laughs, his eyes surprised. "You got me. There's not even a little breeze today." He pads back to his apprentice and lays his tail on her back. "You're very tense here. All you need is enough energy bundled up to let you catch the prey - no extra. Otherwise you'll land harder on your paws as you're stalking it."

Flowpaw nods, trying to loosen the tightness along her spine. Her muscles stop protesting and some of the aching fades away.

"See?" Iceclaw asks, gesturing at her quivering legs. "You're muscles are still building up, so training will be hard at first, but it will get easier. Just keep yourself relaxed. You can get up now." He bends down and scoops up the vole.

Flowpaw sighs and stands, following her mentor as he leads the way through the trees. With a start, she notices the quickly fading light filtering weakly through the bare branches above her.

"It's really late," she says.

"Well, I guess it is," Iceclaw calls back from in front of her. He speeds up, dashing around tree trunks and under prickly bushes. It's all that Flowpaw can do to keep up. She stops thinking about her aching legs and concentrates on the trees flashing by and the wind in her fur. Before she knows it, they have arrived at the edge of camp, looking down over it.

"Remember -" Iceclaw starts.

"Don't think you're going to fail," Flowpaw finishes, giving him a glance before stepping down over the edge, balancing on each pawhold on her way down. _If you think you're going to fail, you're going to fail._ Flowpaw lands on the ground, her legs shaking furiously.

"You look exhausted," Iceclaw notes as he makes his way down. "And it wasn't even a full day of training. Are you ready for tomorrow?"

Flowpaw nods, a new rush of energy coursing through her. If this is what training is like, she could do it forever. "Definitely," she meows, bouncing twice before freezing in her position and looking up at her mentor, embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm just really excited."

He shakes his head, laughing, and leads the way through the tunnel. Flowpaw hurries after him and scampers straight to the medicine cat's clearing. Lightpaw would want to hear about how well she trained today, assuming she was allowed to have visitors.

"Oh, hi, Flowpaw!" Larkpaw says as Flowpaw bursts into the little clearing. The dark gray apprentice puts down the piles of leaves and seeds she was sorting and trots over.

"How can you see in the dark?" Flowpaw gestures toward the piles of herbs.

"I don't need to see. I can smell the scent of each type of herb and if it's too stale to be used or if there's a worm inside it." Larkpaw grins, like she had been practicing this sentence.

"Wow," Flowpaw says. It comes out more sarcastically than she meant to, but Larkpaw doesn't seem to notice. Actually, Flowpaw is genuinely impressed that finding herbs and hunting for prey are so similar - both are based off of scent. "I was wondering if I could visit Lightpaw?"

"Um, I think that's alright," Larkpaw glances back at the den she shares with Hazelstripe, the medicine cat. "She's doing a lot better than this morning."

Flowpaw's eyes light up and she hurries as fast as she dares into the cave, her eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light. Lightpaw is curled up in the far corner on a nest that reeks of fresh herbs. She doesn't look _too_ bad.

"Ah, hello," Hazelstripe's raspy voice greets her. "Feel free to wake her up, but I don't know if _she'll_ be okay with it." He chuckles softly and turns back to his work. Flowpaw nods in return, her heart pounding, and settles down next to her sister.

"Lightpaw?" she whispers. _Please, StarClan, let her be okay..._

Her sister's eyes open a little, then widen when she realizes who is in front of her. "Flowpaw!" she mews excitedly, brushing her tail along her sister's pelt. "I missed you so much."

"Me too," Flowpaw says, trying to convey all the happiness she's feeling in her voice. "Are you feeling alright?"

Lightpaw looks down at her hind legs, her expression glum. "Well, as alright as I can be with my left leg broken," she huffs.

Flowpaw nods, for once at a loss for words. Lightpaw seems to be taking it well. Flowpaw knows that her sister is stronger than most people think she is, and that she'll have no trouble getting through this.

"Well, how is training?" Lightpaw asks, changing the subject.

"I'm starting to learn how to hunt," Flowpaw replies, perking up again. "Iceclaw says I'm doing really well!"

"Wow," her sister sighs, he white pelt glowing in the pale light. Her expression turns sad and dejected.

"Sorry that you can't train with me," Flowpaw shrugs. "But you'll be better before you know it!"

"Yeah, I will," Lightpaw mutters. Flowpaw's optimism doesn't seem to be reaching her.

Flowpaw leans back a little and studies her sister. Her eyes are stormy and her mouth is set in a frown. Flowpaw has never seen her this bitter before.

"I think it's time for the patient to sleep," Hazelstripe pipes up from behind the two sisters.

Lightpaw nods. "Goodnight, Flowpaw," she murmurs and closes her eyes, her expression... relieved, maybe? Flowpaw can't be too sure. The emotions she's seeing in her sister are all new to her.

"Goodnight," Flowpaw meows, padding out into the clearing again. Her earlier good spirits have been put down a bit by her sister's sullen attitude. Larkpaw is still hunched over her herbs, muttering under her breath. She doesn't look up as Flowpaw passes her.

As she enters the main camp, she sees her mother outside the warriors' den, sharing tongues with her mate - Flowpaw's father - Foxgust. They look happy and peaceful and untroubled. Part of Flowpaw wants to share the good news - that Lightpaw can take visitors - but the other part wants to keep it from them, in case Lightpaw turns bitter toward them too.

"Oh, well," she sighs and walks into the apprentice's den, maneuvering around sleeping cats on the ground. She curls up in her nest, the cold seeping into her bones. This is a problem for another day.

 _Please let Lightpaw get the training she deserves,_ she prays as she drifts to sleep. _She deserves it. Even if she expects to fail._

O O O

"Ah, so he told the little one that old adage I always said," a midnight-black tom rumbles. His voice seems to reverberate through the air around him.

"All part of the plan," a russet and white she-cat responds from next to him.

"You always do seem to have one of your plans, Ashstar," the tom shakes his head. "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"For this plan to work, I need you to trust me, Sunpelt. I need all of StarClan to trust me. Without the river, the three can't unite." Ashstar glances around warily before lowering her voice. "And you know how hard it will be to unite them already."

"Peace, Ashstar," Sunpelt says. "Your plans are not flawed. But you rely too much on yourself. You need to let the three realize their path on their own. Otherwise they are nothing but pawns. You've already interfered too many times. They need to find their own way."

"But -" Ashstar tries.

Sunpelt looks directly in her eyes, his dark gaze bold and wise. "You've done far too much. The mirror died because of you, because of your plan. You have no right to send her back to the living world."

"How do you know about that?" Ashstar says, her eyes fearful.

"You asked me to trust you... well, I'm asking you to trust me. The mirror is alive once again, and she is the only one of the three that knows of the prophecy. She is your final play, Ashstar. There is nothing more StarClan can let you do. Trust me when I tell you that you need to trust the cats below. The warriors, the elders, the queens, the apprentices... even the little kits. All of them have done nothing but believe in us, waiting for our guidance. Now it's their turn to act."

Ashstar nods reluctantly. "I trust you, Sunpelt. I trust you more than I trust most other cats. But you know how difficult it will be to bring the three together. I have one more layer to my plan. Then I am finished. That layer won't come into play until the three are all warriors, but trust _me_ when I tell you this: three is a special number. It keeps coming back to us, in prophecies, in signs... like in Firestar, Graystripe, and Sandstorm, and in Jayfeather, Dovewing, and Lionblaze. It will come back to us again. You need to trust that my actions will be the ones that will bring the three together."

Sunpelt hesitates, Ashstar's works sinking in. Finally, he murmurs, "I will trust you, until things go wrong. As they always do."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A white she-cat stumbles into a small cave, the snow under her paws crackling. Her chest is shaking, as if she is out of breath but too weary to gulp in air. Leaf-bare winds wrap around her, her fur barely withstanding the cold.

"You told me it would be heroic," she mutters, addressing the stars. "Not freezing and dreary and irritating."

Of course, there is no answer. Sunpelt made Ashstar promise to stop being so controlling of the events going on in the living world. WindClan's dead leader might hold out for a while, but she always manages to sneak around and influence the happenings in the Clans. Oh, well. She would figure out a way to avoid her. She would rather handle things on her own.

Shivering, she settles down on a somewhat dry spot, licking her snow-white fur the wrong way to keep warm. Now, all she has to do was wait for a sign from StarClan, the one that would tell her it's time to find the river and the heart.

"Anytime is the right time," she grumbles before her eyes slip shut.

She fades into dreams, all her worries sinking away. In their place, there are memories - lots of memories. Pabst, the only cat that understood her ways; Oakdash, who defended her up until her last breath; Lizardstar and his long, pale claws, ripping open her throat. It's been a long while since she's thought about her past.

Suddenly, a fiery orange tom appears in front of her, wreathed in mist.

"Firestar," she dips her head respectfully. He is one of the few cats in StarClan that she had grown to respect and trust. A lot of them were too cranky, too nostalgic, or too controlling for her to be around. Firestar always seemed strong, humble, and level-headed, all while still loving his mate, Sandstorm.

"First day back, and you're already complaining," he chuckles.

She rolls her eyes. "Well, I'm not used to the cold," she gestures to the hazy remnants of her makeshift den filtering into the dream.

Firestar sighs. "I suppose so. It's been so long since I've felt leaf-bare."

For a moment, the two cats sit in silence, each remembering.

"Did you come for a reason?" the white she-cat prompts after a few beats.

"I suppose I did," Firestar says and shakes out his pelt. "You've been waiting for your sign, eh? Well, things are going slow. The river and the heart are still in training - still moons away from becoming warriors. I'm afraid Ashstar sent you back too early."

The she-cat's eyes widen. "You mean I'll have to go back to StarClan again?"

"Well..." Firestar trails off. "Things are going slow up there, too. I think it's best for you to stay down here, and wait for the right time."

"I guess that'll work - but I'll be bored out of my mind," she huffs.

"I'm sorry," Firestar meows, smiling faintly. "It won't be too long of a wait. Someone will come and send another sign soon. But for now, someone wants to visit you."

She is about to ask who when he bows his head and backs away, fading into the fog.

The scene changes. A dark landscape replaces the hazy one before, and the she-cat's white fur suddenly stands out dazzlingly. A midnight-black tom stands next to her, gazing out over the lake in the middle of the territories.

"Pabst?" she asks, her voice shaky. _It can't be..._

He turns around, his golden eyes warm yet sad. "Yep," he says, some of his old humor leaking into his voice.

She starts to rush toward him, but holds herself back. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm admiring the lake," he gestures toward the water a tail-length away from his paws. "And the territories, and the sky, and my company."

The she-cat blinks. "That was terrible, Pabst," she grins. But her voice is thick with emotion.

"Come on, I'm hilarious," he laughs, the sound washing over the hills. It's a sound she has missed for moons. Pabst was the one cat she never left behind... well, until they died. Pabst never really believed in StarClan because he was a loner, so he couldn't join her up there... wait.

She studies him for a moment. He seems pretty solid and alive, not like the usual loners who die - they fade away into the mist. "How are you here?"

"Oh," Pabst trails off. "It's complicated. Too many names. Fuzzy faces. I don't quite remember, really. Jay-something told me that someone was missing me, and, well, I thought of you, Mist."

"Don't call me that," she interrupts. Sure, sometimes the nickname is endearing, but she prefers her warrior name to her old one.

"Fine, fine," he winks, a small smile back on his mouth. "Anyway, Jay-whatever showed me where you were, and told me that I can visit you if I want. Then there were a bunch of other cats... something with 'star' in it and another one with 'star' in it... wait, there was another one with 'star,' too! How do you warriors keep track of all that?"

Mist shakes her head. "No idea. It comes with the territory... so to speak. One day, it just clicked for me."

"I see," he nods. "Well, long story short, I found you in a dream... which sounds ridiculous. What's this StarClan thing everyone was talking about?"

"Oh..." Mist sighs. How could she ever explain something like that to Pabst, who only believes in having a great time? "The warriors' ancestors, watching over them."

"What?" he exclaims. "Wait, no, I don't want to know. But why are we talking about me? What happened to you?"

Mist flinches. "A lot of things..." she starts. "We had an issue with ShadowClan, remember?"

"No..." Pabst tilts his head. "Everything's so fuzzy."

 _He doesn't remember? How could he forget?_ Of course... He had no spiritual realm to go to when he died. All of his memories are probably faded away from being dead for so long. It must have been hard to get him to visit. How did StarClan ever manage that? Maybe Pabst found a little belief after all.

"It's nothing," Mist sighs. He shrugs, the same bright, happy look in his eyes. Except it's sort of vacant. "We lived together for a while... then," Mist struggles to find a lie that he might believe. "We got separated in a storm. Somehow, you must have, um, found me in a dream."

He nods, an accepting look on his face. "Pretty crazy, huh?" he chuckles.

"It sure is," Mist murmurs.

"Pabst?" another voice interjects.

He turns around, facing Jayfeather, the cat who probably got him into Mist's dream. "Oh, Jay-something!" he says cheerfully.

"It Jayfeather," Jayfeather grumbles. "And it's time to go. Mistmi - I mean, Mist," he nods at her respectfully before beckoning Pabst to follow him.

"Goodbye, Mist," Pabst rushes to her and runs his tail along her back. Their eyes meet before he blinks warmly and turns to follow Jayfeather into the forest.

"Goodbye," she chokes out, her voice cracking. Oh, StarClan, she forgot how much she missed him.

The lake and the territories disappear and Mist blinks open her eyes, back in her little cave. Sadness washes over her in waves. She would give anything to just _be_ with him, and not just for such a fleeting moment. She wants something that will last until they both fade away in peace.

Composing herself, she takes in her situation. Her white pelt is covered in a fine layer of snow that she can barely even see against her white pelt. She flicks most of it off with her tail and pokes her head out of her crude den. Everything is still. She can't tell where exactly she is, but she's not in ShadowClan. _Thank StarClan._

"Pabst, I'm so sorry..." she whispers, sorrow creeping back in. Her voice is loud in the silent forest. More memories come rushing back and she fights to keep them at bay. The last thing she needs is to break down when the Clans need her most. Right now, all that matters is something tasty to eat and somewhere sort of warm to stay... for at least a few _moons_.

She studies the snow in front of her, concentrating on lifting her spirits. "If I don't die from the cold or starvation, I'm going to die from boredom," she mutters to herself and gets up, stretching out as well as she can before stepping out of her little cave. Immediately, a pile of snow falls down on the entrance, blocking her from going back in.

"Well," she sighs. She looks up at the light blue sky. "StarClan? More specifically, Ashstar? If you're watching or listening, a nice place to crash would be great for the next few moons, if you're bored up there or anything..." she trails off, kicking the white fluff with her paw.

 _They probably aren't even listening, and if they are, they would want me to be tough and strong and all that,_ Mist thinks to herself. Wait, not Mist. Not if she is going to have to join the Clans again. She had a real warrior name when she died, and she had one when she was sent back, and she has one now.

"It's Mistmirror," she calls into the woods. "That's my name."

O O O

Jayfeather dips his head at the black loner, his ears burning. This is stupid. This "Pabst" doesn't even believe in StarClan, and now Firestar is letting him visit his old mate? Better off leave him dead. He'll probably cause nothing but trouble in the world of dreams.

"Thank you for letting me visit Mist," he says, his voice raw. "It meant a lot to me."

"You're welcome," Jayfeather says through gritted teeth. He's been going on about how Mistmirror - well, "Mist" to him - is the love of his life, and how he can't wait to see her again. Little does he know he probably won't remember anything of this in about three heartbeats -

"Hello, Pabst," Firestar's voice interrupts Jayfeather's thoughts. "Jayfeather," he bows his head.

"You're one of the star-somethings!" Pabst exclaims.

"Firestar," Firestar says patiently, glancing between the sleek black loner and Jayfeather.

"Ah, yes, Firestar," Pabst meows. "I remember you."

Firestar nods kindly at the loner and turns to Jayfeather. "Is he all good? Does he have closure and everything?"

Jayfeather nods coldly. "End the dream?"

"What dream? This dream?" Pabst interjects. His usually naive voice is a bit worried now.

"Just a moment, Pabst," Firestar soothes. Addressing Jayfeather, he hisses under his breath, "Are you sure he'll stay dead? I mean, he sort of believes in StarClan because of this whole ordeal, but won't he just fade away like loners usually do?"

"Probably," Jayfeather shrugs. "No way to know but try it."

Firestar nods. "Go ahead, then."

The two warriors turn to Pabst, Firestar's look warm and Jayfeather's chilly.

"Time for you to go," Jayfeather says, anxious to be rid of the annoying tom. Then he stops himself. He has the ability to _end_ this cat, forever. How could he hold someone's entire existence in his paws so carelessly? Pabst was nothing but trusting - sure, he was also irritating and a little too upbeat for Jayfeather's taste - but he's a cat, just like himself and Firestar, who is probably just starting to realize how real StarClan is.

Silently, Jayfeather curses himself for hesitating. He should just stop the dream and let the loner fade away in peace. Now he was probably messing with everything. But he can't just make someone disappear.

"I can't," he turns to Firestar regretfully. "I'm sorry, but I can't. He believes in StarClan, or at least he's starting to, whether he likes it or not. I can't just bring that to an end."

Firestar's eyes widen, shocked. "What -"

"Are you talking about me?" Pabst leans forward, his expression both playful and wary. How can those two emotions even fit on one face?

"Um, yes," Jayfeather replies, receiving a glare from Firestar. This definitely isn't going as planned.

"We're going to take you someplace," Firestar explains and adds to Jayfeather, "right?"

The medicine cat nods quickly before taking the lead. He sighs internally. _I guess we're going to StarClan..._


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **A/N: I did the math and it's been 164 days since I've last updated. Life caught up with me, and I lost my "passion" for writing fanfiction. I didn't want my writing be forced, so I took a break. Aaaaand, now I'm back. Enjoy this chapter!**

Surrounded by ghostly branches on leaf-bare trees, Lightpaw is trying to escape some sort of dark shape behind her, but her legs won't work. Every time she tries to take a step, her left hind leg crumples. And the creature is gaining on her, making the air around it chilled. Its inky black mouth opens above her, and she resigns to her fate. This is how she dies. It's over.

" _Lightpaw!_ " someone yells in her ear.

She jerks awake, gasping, the image of the monster lingering in her mind. Her broken leg throbs, as if she was actually running on it. It was a dream. Just a dream.

"Are you okay?" Larkpaw asks, her voice heavy with concern. Absently, Lightpaw thinks she'll be a perfect medicine cat. Always so gentle and compassionate.

She sucks in a huge breath and lets it out, trying to calm her racing heart. "I'm fine," she manages. "Just a dream."

Larkpaw shakes her head, laying her slender tail across Lightpaw's back. "You were whimpering and squirming! I was worried about you."

"Sorry," Lightpaw meows. The pain in her leg has begun to subside.

"No, no, don't apologize!" the gray apprentice exclaims. "You're fine. Let me make sure you didn't hurt yourself in your sleep, though." She maneuvers to examine Lightpaw's broken leg. The snowy-white she-cat relaxes, memories of the nightmare already slipping from her mind.

Larkpaw straightens up, nodding to herself. "You didn't injure anything. Thank StarClan!" She smiles warmly at Lightpaw before turning to the little pool in the back of the den and washing her paws.

"Where's Hazelstripe?" Lightpaw asks.

"Out getting some chervil. It grows best in winter and we want to stock up."

Lightpaw nods. Larkpaw has started organizing the many piles of plants lining one wall. She discards the old, wilted leaves in one pile and pushes the good ones back to their proper places. _How does she keep track of all that?_ Lightpaw marvels. _Well, I might as well ask her._

She pushes herself into a more upright position, trying to appear awake and healthy. "How do you keep track of all that?" she mews.

Larkpaw turns around with a bundle of roots between her teeth. She drops it with a grin and settles onto the ground. "Well," she begins, her voice light and lively. "Each herb has its own scent. Even the roots and leaves of the same plant smell differently. That's a huge part of it. All I have to do is memorize the smells of them, and I can then tell if there's mold on a leaf or if a piece of a root is rotting."

"That's really amazing," Lightpaw meows. She can't imagine having all of that information stored in her brain. "How long have you been an apprentice?"

"Four moons," the gray cat says proudly. "I started off right away as an apprentice to Hazelstripe. I knew the warrior life wasn't for me. You're a pretty new apprentice, right?"

Lightpaw nods, watching as the other rifles through the heap of roots. Every once in awhile, she grunts and tosses a piece aside. Soon, Lightpaw's nose is filled with the scents of dozens of herbs being tossed about. It's pleasant, but a bit overwhelming.

She must have zoned out because Hazelstripe's gravelly voice startles her out of what felt like a trance. As he walks in, he brings in the aroma of a cool, brisk day. She misses being outside. Part of her resents her sister for being an actual apprentice while she's stuck in here. But she knows she'll get just as much of a chance when she's healed. Hopefully.

"It's cold out there," Hazelstripe notes as he glances first at Larkpaw, then Lightpaw. His eyes are comforting and friendly. Another good medicine cat.

Larkpaw sits up. "I noticed. You brought it all in with you!"

The medicine cat laughs and shakes out his fur, sending a few snowflakes flying. "How are you, Lightpaw?"

She thinks for a minute. The obvious answer is that she's fine, but her actual thoughts on that are mixed. She's in constant dull pain, she's bored out of her mind, and she's angry and herself for falling down that stupid cliff. And she's mad at her sister, because she gets a chance at training and Lightpaw doesn't.

"I'm fine," she says.

Both the medicine cat and his apprentice nod, pleased. They walk together out of the den, discussing something about medicine and healing, no doubt. That leaves Lightpaw alone again, bored and tired. She's scared to go back to sleep - what if she has another nightmare?

Instead, she stares at the wall, lost in thought. The scent of many herbs washes over her again, calming her mind. What she would give for some poppy seeds to help her sleep.

Only moments later, a cat yowls outside, pain and fear filling its voice. Loud, anxious cries fill her ears and she tries to block them out, the sudden noise making her head throb.

"Move!" Hazelstripe's voice calls out as the entrance to the medicine cat's den is thrown open and the medicine cat rushes through, followed by two cats carrying a frighteningly familiar warrior on their backs. She lifts herself up to try to get a closer look, but her faulty leg collapses.

Larkpaw is suddenly at her side, pressing down on her back gently with her tail. "Just stay here," she murmurs and hurries to the wall lined with herbs, giving them to Hazelstripe as directed.

Lightpaw looks away from them and focuses on the injured cat being lowered into a nest. Her breath catches in her throat and her heart thumps once, then seems to stop. The warrior is her father, Foxgust. Blood is matted on his fur and his eyes are glazed. A sick feeling pools in her belly and she tries to look away, but her eyes are glued to the scene.

Hazelstripe hunches over him, carefully placing spider silk on his stomach while Larkpaw keeps giving him more and more of it, but it makes no difference. The two exchange glances and as if by a silent command, Larkpaw pads over to Lightpaw and gestures for her to get up.

"What are you doing?" Lightpaw tries to say, but the gray she-cat is already lifting her up and out of her nest. She leans on the gray apprentice heavily as she leads her out into the small clearing in front of the medicine cat's den. There, she crumples to the ground, shaking uncontrollably.

"Lightpaw?" Larkpaw asks tentatively.

The white-furred apprentice looks up, her face frozen in fear. "My father..." she wheezes, unable to form enough words.

Larkpaw looks down at her, her face distressed. "It'll be fine," she says. "It's alright."

Lightpaw studies her doubtfully, searching her eyes for an actual answer. She doesn't know what to say, how to tell her that it's her _father_ in there, that there was far too much blood for it to be "fine."

They meet eyes once more and Larkpaw looks to the side, her usually calm face shadowed with anxiety.

It doesn't take any wisdom or insight to know that something terrible has happened. But Lightpaw stays silent. She doesn't need a second opinion on something she already knows is true. Despair overwhelms her like the creature from her dream and she drops her head onto her paws.

"Lightpaw!" her mother's voice shrieks. Blackmoon rushes to her, followed by her sister. They exchange glances and Lightpaw sees her own hopeless conviction reflected in Flowpaw's eyes. They both know Foxgust isn't walking away from this one.

The reality of that thought hits her all at once. _Oh, StarClan._ Her father is dying. Her father is _dying_.

Sadness wells up in her throat and she lets out a mournful yowl, letting Blackmoon cradle her and Flowpaw. Her sister quivers silently beside her and her mother stays very still, her breaths labored.

She looks up and sees Larkpaw making her way back to the medicine cat's den, taking one guilty glance back before disappearing into the cave. The bramble tendrils sway in her wake. No sounds come from inside; Lightpaw can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. The only thing she can concentrate on is her father, who is probably bleeding out in a nest that will be thrown in the dirtplace before the sun sets.

The notion that her father is so insignificant rattles her. He will be mourned, remembered, and forgotten. Lightpaw tries to wrap her mind around this, but she can't. She can't imagine her father absent from her life, or missing her warrior ceremony, or...

"Blackmoon?" Hazelstripe murmurs. The three cats look up at the same time, dreading what the medicine cat is about to say.

The pale brown tom meets each of their eyes in turn, then shakes his head.

O O O

"That's truly a shame," Jayfeather mutters. The cats around him nod morosely. No one else speaks.

After a few beats of silence, Bluestar raises her head. "Ashstar, was this part of your plan?" For once, her voice isn't accusing. It seems genuinely curious.

"No, it wasn't," Ashstar sighs. "But some things are just meant to happen."

Sounds of agreement rise from the group, then one by one, cats begin to leave. Ashstar made sure that only cats who knew about her plan were present, and that they promised once again to remain silent about it after the left.

Soon, only Jayfeather, Firestar, and Ashstar remain. They glance at each other, waiting for one of them to bring up the strange new arrival to StarClan - the loner, Pabst.

"Alright, I'll bite," Ashstar meows, settling back on her haunches. "What's the deal with this 'Pabst' cat?"

Firestar curls his tail around himself and takes a deep breath. "Pabst knew Mistmirror before he died. In fact, they had a... thing." Jayfeather shoots him a _seriously?_ look. The flame-colored tom just shrugs and continues his story. "When Mistmirror decided to try out the life of a warrior, she joined ShadowClan. That was her first mistake."

Ashstar tilts her head. "You make it sound like she was an idiot."

"She wasn't an idiot," Firestar corrects himself. "She just... walked into a lot of things she could have avoided."

"She didn't know about the Clans!" Ashstar protests. "How could she have known that ShadowClan wasn't the best place to start?"

The tom sighs. "Sorry. As I was saying -" he looks at Ashstar pointedly "- Pabst didn't want to join the Clans, but they kept their relationship going. That was her second mistake. When ShadowClan found out, it wasn't pretty. They brought Pabst in and killed him, then Mistmirror. She had just found her belief in StarClan so we took her in, but Pabst faded away, like loners usually do. Then a few days ago, right after Mistmirror arrived, we gave her a dream of Pabst, just for the both of them to get closure, and Jayfeather decided to let Pabst come to StarClan instead of fade away when the dream ended."

Jayfeather shrugs at Ashstar. "I couldn't just end him."

Ashstar nods. "I understand that. So now he's just roaming around in StarClan, taking it all in? Doesn't he have questions?" She glances back and forth, as if expecting him to emerge from the trees around them.

"I'm not sure," Firestar meows. "He's been very quiet since he got here. He might just be shocked."

The two others nod in response and silence descends over them. After a few beats, Ashstar bows her head and turns away, padding into the forest. Jayfeather and Firestar meet eyes and part, each heading their own direction.


End file.
